Cream, One Sugar
by somethinginthewayful
Summary: Two-shot fic challenge from Nocturnias   Sherlock decides that he wants a girlfriend and Molly seems the most logical choice. But when she rejects him he has to win her back.  Drabble, a product of boredom and Reichenbach Feels . R&R COMPLETE
1. part one

**A/N: Hellllloooo! So one of my tumblr/fanfic friends Nocturnias (who writes amazingly! Love Stories and Tournaments of Lies anyone?) sent out a Sherlolly Fic Challenge that I just **_**had **_**to take up. It essentially said that Sherlock had to try and date Molly Hooper (b/c she's the logical choice) but she rejects him and he tries to win her back. :D :D :D I just had to. **

**Okay, read on! It is only a two-shot and will not be turning into anything else, it was just fun to write. **

**Disclaimer: Moffat & Gatiss are kings. **

_Cream, One Sugar. _

This was a three patch problem.

Sherlock Holmes was spread across the couch of 221B, his eyes closed tightly as he heaved in a breath. His mind was full of the woman - what had she asked him? Had he ever had anyone? The answer was quite obvious, Sherlock thought, as if he would be interested in something so trivial - so human. His mind flicked back and forth between Irene and Moriarty - The Woman and The Consulting Criminal. What had he called him? The _Virgin_? Sherlock scoffed and let his eyes open, the flood of nicotine in his system a calming and awakening experience.

In that moment of perfect clarity Sherlock decided, this nickname needed to change. He hated it as much as John hated being called a "confirmed bachelor". Sherlock mulled this thought over: sex was messy and intimate, he was pristine and calculating. Sex was about passion, he was about science. His eyes narrowed as he continued the thought - but sex was also about instinct, a human need driven by chemistry in the brain: dopamine, norepinephrine. This thought was not so disagreeable.

As he grew accustomed to the idea he began to flick through potential candidates. He could pay a prostitute of course, but there were far too many variables that he could not control, sexual infections just being one of them. This ruled out any women he met at a bar or cafe too, and being inexperienced he hardly felt that this would be the likely option. So he flicked through the list of women he knew. Irene: preferable but not available, last seen skulking somewhere about Tunisia. Sally Donovan: Absolutely not, he crossed her off the proverbial list without a second thought. Sarah, unavailable as she was currently dating John and as he understood it was socially inappropriate to attempt to woo your best friend's girlfriend. He sighed... and then there was Molly: mousy, shy, and awkward, but willing.

Sherlock considered her for a moment, she wasn't unattractive by social standards. Yes her mouth was too small, and yes her breasts were less than ample, but she had an altogether symmetrical face and a becoming hairline. What was better is that he knew her, he knew her history and her availability and it fit perfectly into his proposed time table. So Molly it is.

The only fly in the ointment would be sleeping with her right away - she was the perfect picture of innocence and sexual inexperience, Sherlock was positive she would look for more than just an open sexual relationship. He grimaced. He knew Molly was clever, more clever than the average person, and she was interesting (to a point), but she could hardly utter a word around him that didn't begin or end with a stammer. He reckoned that if he really wanted her he could have her now, probably on one of the lab tables and that would be it - virginal Sherlock no more and experiment over. The problem would come after, his mother had always told him to beware of a woman scorned and he needed Molly - for morgue access and other unliscenced priviledges at St. Barts. He would have to do this from another angle.

He would have to date her. Or at the very least make an effort to be nice to her before an after coitus - he supposed that she would probably want to engage in hand holding or some sort of conversational intimacy in the moments after and he debated the relative merits of such actions.

Agreeable, he determined after a few moments, as long as she could keep her insufferable stammer under control.

Sherlock stood, stripping the patches off his forearm and tossing them in the bin before heading out the front door of 221B - getting Molly to bed was going to take some planning.

!=!=!=!+!=!=!=!

Ninety minutes later Sherlock was standing in the morgue, two cups of coffee in his hands and a brilliant smile pasted across his face. _Charm_. That's what would sell her.

On his way to the morgue had stopped off at a drug store and bought a packet of condoms, two were now safely tucked into his pocket. He stopped off at a coffee bar and got them both cups of coffee, and mentally prepared himself to be as inviting and believable as he could.

"Evening Molly," he greeted and plopped the cup of coffee down in front of her.

"S-Sherlock," she looked up at him, her eyes narrowing in suspicion but then he flashed her a smile and he watched her melt immediately.

"How are you this evening, Molly?" he asked, another warm smile.

"What do you need Sherlock?" she asked, taking a sip of the coffee and putting it back on the table.

"Oh nothing," he took the seat by her, making sure he was angled in and leaning forward, trying to signal his sexual availability.

He watched her swallow and then continue, "You're never here for n-nothing,"

"I am tonight," he smoothed over, "I was in the area, I thought I would pop in,"

Molly looked clearly puzzled so he placed a hand on hers and smiled warmly again, "I haven't been by the morgue in awhile," he said.

He watched her eyes dialate and felt her pulse quicken beneath his fingertips, she took a breath and quite suddenly her face changed, shifted into a cold mask he normally saw reflected on his own features. She looked into his eyes, "Laying it on a little thick, don't you think?

"What?" he was caught off guard, and he removed his hand, looking down at her.

"What do you need, Sherlock?" she straightened up, "you can just ask,"

He considered this a moment and studied her, she was being much more rational this evening and he felt his plan beginning to crack apart. "Molly, as I've already explained,"

"Please," she scooted back in her chair, "don't patronize me,"

"Alright," Sherlock stood, his figure so much taller than hers, "I have a problem with which I could use your assistance, I would like to solicit your... services,"

"Do you need something analyzed?" she asked and then added, "is it going to get me fired, arrested, or killed?"

"Nothing like that," he waved her down and cleared his throat, "my problem is of a more personal nature,"

"Fight with John?" she asked, tilting her head to the side, her voice regaining its softer edge, "I could... I mean, if you need advice I could,"

"Molly," he warned, trying to mask the exasperation in his voice, "Please do shut up,"

She raised an eyebrow but clamped her mouth shut anyway.

"Thank you," Sherlock took a step closer to her and brushed his fingertips along her jaw, running the pad of his thumb over her lip.

"What?" her voice came out like a whisper, albeit a husky whisper.

"Molly," he murmured, "the problem that I need you for involves a particular kind of help that only you could give me," he quirked an eyebrow and ran his thumb across her lip again.

"Oh, _Oh!_" she jumped back immediately, "What? Where is this coming from?"

"I've decided," he began, "that I wish for something more," he was lying but it suited the situation, "and I believe you fall into that category,"

"You want to... go out? With me?" she tried, her voice still rather weak.

He pressed forwards against her and she was locked between a lab table and his body nearly touching her, "Yes I believe I do,"

"I..." she choked and tried again, "I... you want to go out with me? Like for real, on a proper date... not just-"

"Molly," he groaned and his lips came crashing down on hers, his hands pressed to either side of her face to keep her steady, his mouth awkwardly moving until it found a rhythm with hers. At least now she was silent, and the kiss was not all that unpleasant to him. Her mouth had a certain softness he savoured.

She inhaled sharply and pushed him back, "Sherlock, what on earth?"

He kissed her again and pressed her further into the lab table, his hands on her arms, pulling her up to his lips, fiercly gripping her against him.

He felt her still and then struggle, she pushed him back strongly and they disconnected, "you're hurting me!" she cried and his hands flew free of her like he had been burned.

"Molly," he began.

"No, what the hell?" she wiped a hand across her mouth and took a steadying breath, "What the hell are you doing? If you came here for sex... you can forget it," she could hardly believe the words had left her mouth, "I'm not a... a toy you can toss around and use when convienant,"

"Molly I was simply trying to kiss you, I'm sorry if you got the wrong impression," he tried this approach and waited to guage her reaction.

"No," she countered, "I'm pretty sure I got the right impression - you're bored Sherlock and you're looking for an easy girl to sleep with. I'm the obvious choice, I get that - simple, shy, besotted Molly - the obvious target for an easy lay," she clapped a hand over her mouth.

"It's alright, you can say what you're thinking," he noted, "I often do," he was impressed by her in this moment, unabashadly saying exactly what she meant.

"Fine," she crossed to where she had been working a moment ago and sat down, "I'd like you to go,"

"Excuse me?" he asked and watched as she picked up her pen and began to resume writing.

"I said I'd like it if you left, Sherlock. You came here thinking I would easily fall into bed with you because I... like you, and you're wrong. I'm not a ... I'm not a whore, Sherlock," she swallowed roughly and glanced at him, "I won't be treated like one,"

He studied her again and in this moment he truly believed he might admire Molly Hooper. "I am sorry," he attempted.

"You're not," she noted, "you just think you should be. Now I asked if you would go, and I meant it,"

Sherlock nodded and turned to go, throughouly confused by the turn of events. As he reached the door Molly called out, "Sherlock,"

For a moment he thought his luck had changed and he turned to look at her, "I take my coffee with cream and one sugar. Next time you try to seduce a woman at least get her coffee order straight,"  
>Molly looked down at her notes, a blush growing over her cheeks as Sherlock turned angrily on his heel to leave - departing more aroused than when he first arrived, and with fewer options than when he began.<p>

**A/N: Continue on to part two! ;)**


	2. part two

_Part Two_

The almost sexual encounter with Molly was becoming a pesky problem to Sherlock as it plagued his thoughts. He plucked the strings of his violin and leaned back on his couch cushions - where had he gone wrong?

Yes, he had forced a kiss on her but he had assumed that she would have reciprocated immediately. After all, she was desperately in love with him, or she was last time he checked. She had shown obvious signs of arousal and piqued interest but had still pushed him out. He certainly did not think her a whore as she had implied, she was one of the farthest things from it.

His plucked the strings again and considered her words - she was foolish to think he took her for a plaything. She was convienantly available to help him in his questionably legal activities at the morgue, and she was more than willing to participate then - so why was this interaction so different.

_Sex. _Sometimes Freud did get some things right.

Sherlock considered his motivations. When she had pushed him back he had felt something flame within him, he liked this new Molly Hooper who could hold a sentence and take command of a situation. Her confidence had only made him want her more - images of a sexually dominant Molly flashed through his mind - perhaps she wasn't as inexperienced as he had previously assumed.

Sherlock bit his lip and strummed the strings again, it seemed that he was not as immune to sexual desire as he had previously thought. What had started as an experiment was beginning to spiral out of control in his mind, the feeling of her hot lips was still present on his mouth. Her thin lips were deceiving and in that brief moment when her mouth had moved in sync with his he could honestly see the rest of the night going swimmingly. Unfortunately she had to regain her senses and question his motives.

His hand gripped the neck of the violin as he remembered the feel of her body pressed against his, she was so small and so delicate - even know, hours later, he still wanted her.

So Molly Hooper wasn't one for an open sexual relationship, she wanted strings and she wanted them around Sherlock. He considered the pros and cons of this for a moment. He would have to pay her more attention, give gifts, regularly accompany her to dinner, share private things, commit to her in some way. But he would also have unlimited lab access, frequent sexual intercourse, and the loss of a garish nickname. He would be _The Virgin _no longer.

He considered his own feelings for a moment, something that he rarely allowed himself to do. Did he love her? Obviously not. Did he care for her? Somewhat - he determined that he would mind it very much if she was no longer working at St. Bart's, if he no longer saw her day to day. Did he trust her? Yes. The decision was made for him, he needed to persue this _relationship _with her - for the experiment and for himself.

He had upset her though and if he was ever going to properly court Molly Hooper he'd have to make ammends. He had apologized to her once already, another time might not hurt. Dropping his violin on the side table he pulled on his coat and scarf and pushed out the door and took to the streets to hail a cab. Molly's flat wasn't far.

!=!=!=!=!+!=!=!=!=!

Molly's head was still spinning as she sipped her evening mint tea and wrapped her silky dressing gown around herself. She could hardly believe that she had rejected Sherlock Holmes - one night with him was surely better than a life without him entirely, wasn't it? But somehow she really couldn't bring herself to regret kicking him out of the lab, she had been listening to too many self-help books telling herself she was worth it. She had finally started to believe it. After the Jim fiasco and a long stint of loveless nights Molly Hooper was finished pining over Sherlock Holmes, she could either have him fully (the possibility of which was next to nil) or she could move on.

She had just cracked open _Pride & Prejudice _for the ninetieth time when there was a loud knock on the door behind her. The book slipped from her fingertips and clattered onto the floor, the persistant knock came again and she hopped to her feet, pulling the dressing gown tight together over her chest and taking a few steps forward to check through the peep-hole.

"Molly," Sherlock's voice came, "please open the door, I can hear you awake in there,"

She groaned and ran a hand through her loose hair before clicking open the lock and letting the door spring free, "What are you doing here?"

"I have a proposition for you," he pushed past her into the flat and turned to face her, two cups of steaming coffee in his hands.

"I thought we already covered that subject this afternoon," she noted, trying to keep her cool.

He grimaced, "No, Molly, it is a legitimate proposal," he thrust the coffee towards her.

"Oh?" she raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms under her bust.

"I would like to go on a date with you, Molly Hooper," he stated blandly.

"You mentioned something about that earlier before you snogged my face off," she retorted and took the coffee, putting it on the table beside her.

His jaw locked momentarily, "You're making this increasinly difficult with your sarky comments," he noted, "you could at least allow me to finish,"

She waved her hand in a gesture that said, 'go on ahead'.

He nodded curtly and then continued, "I wish for you to be my... girlfriend," the words sounded awkward on his tongue, "a reltionship in which we will both benefit I believe, both in shared lab equipment and monogomous sexual interactions," he took a half step forwards, "in addition I believe you would not find the situation disagreeable,"

"You're confusing me here," she confessed, "you've never paid me a sideways glance in that way... why now?"

"Because," he stated simply, "I would like to further our relationship and I believe this is the natural progressive step - this is what people do, correct? Find a suitable individual to sustain a monogomous sexual relationship,"

"Yes," she bit her lip, "why me?"

Sherlock's eyes studied her for a moment, taking in her tousled and natural hair, minimal makeup, plunging nightdress neckline, and smooth skin. So Molly Hooper liked to look good at home, despite the fact she wasn't entertaining many men.

"You intrigue me," he admitted, "I would like to discover why,"

"I... intrigue you?" she repeated.

"Yes," he took a step closer and suddenly broke into her personal bubble, "you are somewhat of a mystery to me, Molly Hooper. I wish to discover more about you - for some reason I find that I can trust you Molly, and I find myself wanting to progress our relationship,"

"Sherlock," she began.

"No," he held up a hand, "I believe that if you were to allow me the chance I would prove to be a most interesting candidate for a suitor. Although I don't claim to know the particulars of _dating _I understand that both parties find it quite enjoyable and it can remain as casual or as committed as the couple so wishes,"

"Sherlock," she protested again.

He continued, his words running over hers, "I believed that you would have accepted sooner because of your obvious attraction to me, and I am sorry about my crass behavior earlier at the morgue. I made an incorrect assumption, it will not happen again. However, I find myself very attached to the idea of maintaining a steady sexual and intellectual relationship with you so long as you are willing to,"

"That's the problem with you Sherlock," she sighed and put a hand firmly on his chest, "You never know when to just shut the hell up,"

"Wh-" he began.

Molly gripped his neck with her opposite hand and pulled his lips down to hers in a brisk movement, their mouths quickly resuming the synced rhythm he had enjoyed so much.

"So is that an agreement?" he murmured as she pulled back.

"Yes, you git," she rolled her eyes and pulled the lapels of his jacket to force their mouths back together.

Sherlock gathered his arms around her and discovered that he rather liked holding Molly Hooper, the warm feeling of her body flush against his. Perhaps he would find this more enjoyable that he originally thought, he thought, as he kissed her thin lips. Her coffee with cream and one sugar forgotten on the table.

**A/N: Yay! Fic finished! Okay, so it was just a drabble, but it was damn fun to write. :D I hope you all liked it! **

**For those of you reading my multi-chap Sherlolly fic series (The Long Way Home & The Domestic Analysis) I will be posting a new chapter TOMORROW. (That's Feb 11) but I hope this tides you over until then. I just don't have enough time tonight to get out a chapter that's worth reading. But stop by tomorrow and there will be one awaiting you. **

**3 **

**x**


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